‘Hey,’ she wrote. ‘Is it too late for me to join your table tomorrow night?’
The reply came back in seconds.
‘Of course not! Delighted. See you there. H xx’
Nikki turned off her phone with a smile. She felt excited, and nervous at the same time. One way or another, things were starting to happen.
It was about time.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Ballroom at the Four Seasons Hotel on Beverly Hills’ iconic Rodeo Drive, is a grand, split-level room, dominated by a large, formal stage at one end. In the center of the ceiling a vast, spiral chandelier lamp hangs above a permanent dance floor surrounded by tables, illuminating a bright blue and gold carpet that wouldn’t look out of place in a sultan’s desert palace.
Tonight’s charity, the luxuriously funded End Addiction, had spared no expense transforming the already lavish space into an enchanted vision of fairytale proportions. The flowers alone – vast arrangements of hydrangeas and white roses, each as tall as a grown man – must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Polished silver charges gleamed and glinted in the candlelight atop tables dressed with crisp white linens, crystal-cut glasses and priceless Spode china flatware. An eighteen-piece string orchestra played in white tie from the stage, while waiting staff who all looked like movie stars glided between the milling guests, offering caviar blinis and flutes of vintage champagne, as well as exotic ‘soft’ cocktails for the AA and NA crowd.
The whole thing was so far over the top, it was like walking into a collapsing soufflé of decadence. Distasteful, in Nikki’s opinion, especially when one considered the lives of the poor, lost souls, their lives wrecked by drugs, that tonight’s event was supposed to help. But Nikki was an old enough hand at fundraising to know that, in LA at least, you had to spend money to make money. Yes, the indulgence was obscene, from the room to the Michelin-starred food to the couture dresses, some of which cost more than most of tonight’s waiting staff made in a year. But with tickets going for a thousand dollars a head, and tables for twenty times that, plus an after-dinner auction that was tipped to raise well into seven figures, from the charity’s point of view the evening was already a roaring success.
‘Nikki! Darling. I’m so glad you could make it.’
Haddon Defoe, looking as dapper as ever in a beautifully cut Armani tux and pale blue silk tie, was all smiles as he glided over, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘I could use the support, to be honest,’ he confided. ‘They’ve asked me to give a speech tonight, and I’m panicking. That was always more Doug’s thing than mine.’
Nikki hugged him warmly, inhaling his smell of expensive aftershave mingled with mouthwash. Haddon had always been one of those people who ought to have been attractive but somehow just wasn’t. ‘You’ll do fine,’ she assured him. ‘It’s an honor they asked you to speak.’
‘Yeah, an honor I couldn’t refuse. End Addiction was one of our biggest donors this year.’
Nikki raised an eyebrow. In the past Haddon and Doug had struggled to find backing from the big, umbrella slush-funds that so man
y other small drug charities relied on. Largely because their own clinics were fiercely autonomous, and any donations they accepted had to be strictly no strings attached.
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ she looked at Haddon questioningly.
‘I think so,’ he replied, intermittently looking over her shoulder to scan the arriving guests. ‘I don’t know. Maybe Doug wouldn’t have approved. But these guys had so much money to give away this year. They got a couple of big new donors themselves. And they eased up on the whole needle-sharing thing, plus you know, with opening Venice we needed the cash really badly.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me,’ said Nikki, touching his arm. She looked beautiful tonight, Haddon thought admiringly, in a floor-length, off-the-shoulder red dress, with her dark hair pinned up and drop diamond earrings casting brilliant flashes of light over the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders. These were no widow’s weeds, that was for sure. Was the dress some sort of statement? Was her official mourning period now over?
‘Doug’s gone,’ she said, reading Haddon’s mind. ‘These are your decisions to make now. Besides,’ she smiled, ‘Doug wasn’t perfect. Not all of his decisions were the right ones.’
‘That’s true,’ said Haddon. And nor are all of yours, Nikki, he wanted to add, doing a double take as the rotund figure of Derek Williams, her obnoxious PI, suddenly appeared at the entrance to the ballroom. What the hell is he doing here?
Haddon had considered telling Nikki about his visit from Derek Williams, and the wild, offensive accusations the PI had decided to lob at him. But in the end he decided against it. If Williams ended up sharing his version of their interview with Nikki, then Haddon would be prepared to push back and defend himself. But if he didn’t, then it would be better all round to let bygones be bygones. The last thing Haddon wanted was to re-open the Doug/Lenka conversation with Nikki. The dead should be allowed to rest in peace.
Following his gaze, Nikki frowned too. Williams hadn’t mentioned anything to her about attending tonight. Then again, perhaps he didn’t know that she was coming? She’d only added herself to the guest list at the last minute, after all, to have a chance to check out Luis Rodriguez. Was Derek doing the same thing? She hoped he hadn’t forgotten that his priority was supposed to be finding out more about Lenka.
‘I’ll see you at our table later,’ said Haddon, making his excuses and slipping off to glad-hand some of the other VIPs. Nikki was about to go over to Williams when she suddenly spotted Anne at the back of the room, deep in conversation with one of End Addiction’s founders.
Walking over, Nikki waited patiently for the two of them to finish talking before approaching her.
‘Surprise!’
‘Nikki?’
For a moment Anne looked almost angry. In a short black flapper-style dress with a silk tasseled hemline, she looked even younger than usual, although her pale face seemed strained. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I had a last-minute invitation,’ Nikki blushed. Somewhat taken aback by Anne’s reaction, she bent the truth a little. ‘Doug’s partner, Haddon Defoe, asked me to join his table.’
‘Oh,’ said Anne, softening a little. ‘That’s nice.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Nikki asked. ‘You look a little tense.’